Nigrum catulus amor
by Ladymadonna1899
Summary: Vernon's abuse escalates shortly after fifth year and Harrys had enough. He's tired. And he wants out. Will he reach freedom, when it is nearly in his grasps? Or will he be seemingly banished to another living hell?
1. Catulus

Nigrum catulus amor

"I'll teach you-" Another fist slammed down into him again, "you ungrateful freak-" yet another pudgy fist slammed down onto his rib cage, braking at least two bones in his chest, "to waste food like that again". Harry was currently being dragged out of his dingy room by a very mad, and very perse Uncle Vernon.

Dudley's old rags were hanging off him in tatters as his uncle's belt had slashed through the worn fabric. He wore no shoes as he was pulled out of the room. His blood was staining the carpet as his Uncle lumbered out of the room, his fat fingers clenched around his thin fractured wrist.

Today was the day Harry finally lost it. Wasted what, the food? The slop fit for a pig. The cold soup? Was that what it was? Harry hadn't been able to identify the unpalatable substance that was served through his cat flap a mere twenty minutes ago. For you see he hadn't eaten these past three days and barely anything the days prior. So, he had gone on a hunger strike. He was not going to be subjected to eating slop, what little dignity he had left after years of slavery to these barbarians, he was not being coerced into eating that lumpy, brown shit, they considered food.

So here he was being flung down the stairs, literally head over heels into the accompanied wall. Smacking the whole right side of his body hard into the wood. He suspected a desolated shoulder and a broken jaw. A Humorless thought fluttered through his bulimic mind, _this must be the only exercise the walrus gets._

He was too tired to scream or protest; a noise halfway between a groan and a whimper escaped his swollen mouth as he attempted to crawl towards the door. He had his wand and invisibility cloak stuffed done his pants, there was nothing for him here, there never was. He had stuffed Hedwig through the window just before Vernon had smacked open the door. There was nothing. Nothing. He cared not for the blood wards surrounding the house that kept him 'safe', he was beyond reasoning. In a way he prayed if the wards fell the death eaters would find him. At least then hopefully Voldemort would grant him a mercifully quick death. Yes, the bitter sweet, dark caress of death. He could taste it.

This was why he was not a Slytherin. They were such self-preservation bastards, where he was not, clearly evident in past circumstances. Gryffindor's were much more prideful and unfortunately it would be their downfalls.

So here Harry was a few mere meters away from the front door, freedom it was nearly in his grasp. Unfortunately, no, Vernon came barreling down the stairs at a pace Harry didn't know he possessed, grabbing Harry by the legs and pulling him back smearing more blood onto the pristine carpet, then presiding to kick Harry callously in the pelvis. Possible cracking the bone. Yet he could not come to care. His brain was being assaulted by Dopamine.

In the background he could hear his Aunt Petunia screaming for Vernon to stop. God, he must have looked a sight for her to intervene. He still was befuddled as to how his own blood, his mother's sister could stand by and watch her own nephew suffer years after years of abuse by her cunt of a husband. A Lovely tribute to her sister, it dearly showed how much of a jealousy complex Petunia had had earlier on in her life. Stupid bitch.

And so as Vernon went to grab Harry by the throat again. His instincts took over, thankfully, in a vain attempt to protect his battered body. Harry lifted he left hand in an attempt to swat away Vernon's beefy one.

Unbeknownst, to Harry though be had already transformed and become his animagus form. So when Vernon stumbled back howling in acute agony, Harry was pleasantly surprised. And finally the fates were merciful! He hadn't even known if he had enough magic left in his reserves to complete a full transformation.

Taking a brief moment to pier down at the paw that had sliced open Vernon's fleshy arm, he could see cellulite, blood and muscle stuck on and in-between his claws.

Now, Petunia was screaming for a different reason. Her wailings were directed to Vernon as his wound bleed profusely on to the carpet and his once brown jumper, but also to the now malnourished black panther, that was occupying her hallway.

Vernon swaying and stumbling like a drunk to the kitchen to see if he could find something to get his laceration to stop bleeding. And Harry, while both his aunt and uncle was somewhat occupied attempted to flee.

Not caring how he got out or where he went Harry, picked his wand and the cloak with his broken jaw, making sure both items were secure behind his sharp canines and headed toward the door.

With his good shoulder he slammed into the wooden door with as much force as he could muster and with a loud "thump," the door did not budge. A forced winey whimper was released from his mouth. He was becoming frantic now as it sounded as if Vernon was recovering and angrier than ever. So he stumbled into the lounge looking for some sort of escape or exit.

"His done it-"…"NO, dead Petunia, he is Dead!"

His heart racing; beating frantically as if it were trying to fit in as many beats as possible before it stopped at its untimely end. Harry was tired but know he did not want to die. He wanted to get out of this hellhole and he wasn't going to die here at the hands of his Uncle. A filthy muggle, the worst kind. At least if he were to die at Voldemort's hand he would die a martyr's death, with dignity. Imagine if he were to die at his Uncle's hand The-Boy-Who-Lived, oh the irony.

Uncertainly he looked at the chimney. Surprisingly his baffled brain deduced, that no, panthers could not climb up chimneys. By now he could here his Uncle's heavy footfalls making nearing the lounge. He craned his stiff neck over his shoulder and looked back. He couldn't go through the front or back door, or even up the damn stairs. He obviously couldn't go up the chimney. Fuck. He was trapped. His Uncle was practically round the corner and Harry was practically sweating in desperation.

He was looking and praying for an opening door just to appear to-

Wait, no he didn't need a door. There were plenty of windows in the lounge and they broke. Windows did brake didn't they? Before his brain had time to even consider that, he was already moving, ignoring the pain that shot through half of his limbs as he made to two unsteady bounds before he leaped. Right in the way of the window.

Quickly before he hit said window he twisted his neck so his face didn't get covered in glass. He already had one scar that adorned his forehead and that was already one to many.

"Smassh," favorably the window smashed and Harry went with it. Stumbling to the ground his face scraped onto the pavement and then onto the asphalt. Relief and absolute agony filled Harry as he tried to heave himself off the road. It seems even now Vernon was trying to take chase after Harry, but his unfortunate girth and looming heart attack prevented him from doing so. But he seemed content to spew vulgar terms at the teenager as he grasped the weak doorframe for support.

It was a sheer wonder at how the neighbors had not once, ever contacted the police or child services to report the yelling a screaming that nearly all occupants at the house had produced. It was probably something to do with the wards Harry mused as he stalked off as hurriedly as he could manage with a dislocated shoulder and most likely broken wrist.

Harry limped his way through the small wood not far from suburbia. Until finally his body couldn't take no more. Abruptly he dropped to the ground, whether from dehydration, malnourishment, infection, blood loss, or pure exhaustion he dropped. His eyes were already dropping.

Laying there, in his furry form, he didn't know for how long or even where he was, but he just lay there. Relaxing in the unadulterated serenity, the darkness surrounding him like a lover's embrace and the fresh forest aroma filling his nostrils. Was this death's sweet caress? Enticing him to let go, offering this alluring quiescence for all of eternity? It was a pleasant place to die he thought suddenly, a pleasant place to submit to the infinite mitigation that awaits in the afterlife.

And finally his eyes dropped.

He did not notice the masked men approach him, leaves and twigs snapping beneath their boots. Wands at the ready. Cocking their heads as if to see if the skinny panther were to make any un-planned and sudden movements. After watching the black mass breathe in and exhale for several minutes, they came to the conclusion that, the animal was indeed not going anywhere. Moving in as the one united unit they were, the small masked congregation of men picked up a part of the lithe panther's body. With the animal sufficiently raised from the ground one man activated a portkey, whisking the unusual coterie to an unplottable location.

All the while Harry was numb with pain. Thinking the usual pull from his navel was him being whirled away to his pleasurable damnation.

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	2. The Posse

Chapter 2

Watching a methodical house in Surrey on a Saturday night was not something Lucius Malfoy wanted to do. Especially since it was a Muggle one too. But being in the Inner Circle, you were subjected to doing peculiar assignments. This one was not so peculiar as it required stealth and patience. Two traits many people in the death eater ranks sorely lacked.

Four masked men; Malfoy, Avery, Nott and Rockwood had been watching the plebeian house for several hours now, ever since they had managed to confund Nymphadora Tonks, a disgrace to the Black name, who was also a member of Dumbledore's order.

It was tedious work, upstanding men like themselves should not have to undertake. Hiding in bushes watching the arid muggle house and neighborhood. You could practically smell the filth, it clung to everything. If it were not such a job of vital importance, Mr. Malfoy would probably be inclined to skive off as if it were 3rd year Transfiguration. But no this irksome household was called home to none other than Mr. Harry Potter, or so Lucius thought.

The wards surrounding the bromidic home were what kept the four masked men from storming the household and appariting away with Potter. Any persons wishing to cause malicious intent to the boy and entered the wards would find themselves surrounded by Dumbledore and his useless cronies and possibly ministry Aurors. Well, it was not the assembly outside that wanted to cause Harry ill intent, but their master Voldemort, the Dark Lord.

And so they were stationed outside surrounding the humdrum home either waiting for the wards to fall or Potter to miraculously waltz on outside, so they could grab him and activate a Portkey and whisk him away to Malfoy Manor, where there lord was awaiting there arrival.

The wards prevented anyone from the magical community from actually seeing or hearing anything that was happening on inside the house, so it was fairly obvious that something was hidden there, it was just problematic trying to gain access into the wards and so one the house. So they had to undergo a waiting game. Till either Potter no longer called this house home or he again waltzed on outside.

So they waited…and waited….and waited till finally something actually happened.

"I'll teach you, you ungrateful freak to waste food like that again!" the muggle man hollered, snapping Lucius and all the other men out of their daze. All of the men in their respective hiding spots turned to look at the house. The lights were on and somebody was in the kitchen and upstairs.

Lucius stared in disbelief. The wards…no they couldn't…not after all this time. They couldn't have fallen, not now? But, yes to Lucius' appeasement, they certainly had. The blond smirked behind he silver mask and gave out a small single through the mark to signal entry.

However, Lucius happened to be close enough to he stumbling down the stairs and smack and someone smack quite hard into a wall and a subtle groan. Rockwood watched as the female muggle ran out of the kitchen screaming for the fat man to stop. Lucius told them to wait, through the signal of course, just before he heard the male screak like a banshee. Malfoy's forehead was creased, why would the muggle howl in such acute agony. Maybe he had fallen down the stairs? That seemed like a likely explanation.

"Bang…Bang…Bang," sounded on the door, as if somebody was trying to smash there way out. This served to confuse the death eaters more.

They waited around a few more minutes and all they could here were harsh threats from the fat muggle that he was going to get the freak and as Rockwood watched the fat muggle stumbled out of the kitchen toward to the front of his pitiful residence and big, quite skinny black panther jumped through the window.

With this surprising affair Lucius, who had been closest to the lounge had barely anytime to shield himself from the debris. He hissed in pain as a stray piece of glass sliced his left side, slipping around his Protego charm. Trying to steam the bleeding Malfoy didn't notice the panther animagus stumble to the ground and stagger away, until Avery whispered in his ear.

"It was Potter, he's an animagus!" he whispered harshly.

"Wait wha-" Avery didn't give anytime to express his disbelief because Avery as well as Nott and Rockwood were already in pursuit of the injured feline. He did however have the gratifying experience of hearing the derogatory terms the filthy muggle was shouting out through the now, broken window.

Lucius had half a mind to curse the brute himself, his wand was already out of its holster, when he remembered the imperative information Avery had given him, with a signature Malfoy sneer he was off, not even bother with a Disillusionment charm, he scampered off in the direction of his fellow death eaters.

He followed the group into a small wood just on the outskirts on suburbia. When he entered the small forest the rest of his convey were circled around a fallen figure, wands raised. He approached warily raising his wand to mimic that of his comrades.

What he saw seemed to answer an unspoken question in his mind. _Was this decrepit creature actually Potter? _

The four men watched the panther's chest raise and fall with extremely labored breaths. The animals breaths were raspy and rattily, getting worse, even as they were standing there.

Wasting no time Lucius lowered his wand and gestured to the animal. "Pick _it_ up, we'll take_ it_ to the Dark Lord," and with that the remaining three men lowered their wands and put them back into their holsters and approached the indigent creature.

It did not stir as the three men raised it off the ground. Within moments the Portkey was activated and with a whirl of wind and a pop, they landed n the formal Lounge of Malfoy Manner, where they Dark Lord was sitting on the sovereignty haughtily.

"What do you bring dear Lucius?"


End file.
